


Zugragur

by Irrealia



Series: Tumblr Ficlets - Bagginshield Edition [3]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse of Khuzdul, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Bottom Thorin, Consort Bilbo Baggins, Fluff and Smut, Khuzdul, M/M, PWP, Power Bottom, Sleepy Sex, a lot of smut, filthy khuzdul, hobbits have the sleep patterns of pre-Industrial Europe, no seriously like, so much khuzdul, which is hopefully clearly consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 21:38:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5943982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irrealia/pseuds/Irrealia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <a href="http://bagginshieldhappiness.tumblr.com/post/137952271235/thorin-would-be-endlessly-fascinated-by-the-way">bagginshieldhappiness on Tumblr:</a>
</p><p>"Thorin would be endlessly fascinated by the way Bilbo’s hand fits so perfectly in his"</p><p>...</p><p><a href="http://idylls-of-the-queen.tumblr.com/post/138875752822/bagginshieldhappiness-thorin-would-be-endlessly">Then it got filthy thanks to inspiration from @ahiddenkitty</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Zugragur

If his one beloved had been a fellow dwarf, Thorin might have thanked Mahal for forging him the perfect partner, whose hand fit in his as if they had been carved from the same stone. But his partner wasn’t a dwarf, so Thorin really didn’t know whom to thank for the miracle that was Bilbo Baggins. (Theology was hardly his speciality, but maybe one of these days he’d remember to ask Balin, who might actually know and, importantly, wouldn’t be very likely to tease him about it.)

But even though his gratitude was aimless, Thorin woke each morning  with a warm and fuzzy thankful feeling that lasted throughout the day, a feeling that was renewed whenever he joined his consort in bed at night. Their hands fit together, fingers plaited. Their bodies fit together, with Bilbo resting perfectly in the space carved out by Thorin’s bulk beneath the blankets. And when Thorin’s hand reached over, crossing the expanse of Bilbo’s soft thigh, he would very often find something else that fit perfectly into his hand. 

Tonight, Bilbo was half-hard, as he often was in sleep, and Thorin, who had only just climbed into bed, was still awake, tense from endlessly debating his councillors, and eager for something else. Bilbo would likely not mind being woken; he had long since learnt that one of the more curious habits of hobbits was to go straight to bed at sundown, but very often to wake a few hours later, for snacks or other pleasant diversions, and then go back to sleep again when sated. And so Thorin stroked Bilbo softly but firmly up and down with one hand, his own thick _bukhzakhuz_ pressed against his ample bottom, his hips grinding them together. He pressed kisses into the hollow of Bilbo’s neck, and nibbled with the gentlest pressure of teeth up the curve of Bilbo’s ear.

Bilbo’s breathing sped up, and he slowly floated up into consciousness through a pleasant haze of warmth and well-meant friction, moaning before he could even properly sort out what felt so pleasant. A few moments later, however, he was able to appreciate that the pleasant sensations were due to a familiar dwarven hand doing indescribably clever dwarven things to him. He whined a little bit as Thorin suddenly pulled away for reasons that did not seem immediately apparent to him in his freshly woken state, which only met with a chuckle in response. Then Thorin’s hand was back, his palm oiled, and he was setting about spreading it thoroughly over Bilbo’s _zugragur_ , before straddling his lover and looking down at him through the low lamplight with eyes that glittered blue and gold. “If you are agreeable,” said Thorin with a mildness belying the tension in his posture, “I would sheathe your sword within me.” Bilbo, still sleepy, nodded his assent, looking up at Thorin with through half-lidded eyes and long blond lashes. Thorin reached behind himself, sliding a well-oiled finger into his now-experienced _ikrah_ , testing his readiness. When Thorin had confidently taken two of his own fingers, he reached down and, carefully, guided his beloved’s  _zugragur_ inside.

It fit so, so perfectly, perhaps even better there than in his hand.

Bilbo’s hips bucked up into the slippery heat of Thorin’s body, clumsy from sleep but no less eager for it. Thorin gripped the headboard, steadying himself and bracing himself so that he might do the moving instead. Over and over again he took Bilbo’s _zugragur_ into his _ikrah_. He started with a steady slow rhythm, as hammer meets anvil. Bilbo’s hands took to trailing idle shapes over his chest, toying with the nap of the hair there, and teasing his nipples into stiff peaks, tugging on the steel rings that wound through them. His hips became steadier as he grew both more awake and more lustful, rising to meet Thorin’s downward thrusts. His hands trailed even farther down to where Thorin was hard and leaking, fine pearls of liquid threatening to drip onto Bilbo’s bare chest. He caught one with a fingertip, and then promptly licked his finger clean, making a little show for Thorin of his tongue and lips, licking and sucking. The effect on Thorin was profound; he nearly lost his balance, and Bilbo had to reach his hands out to Thorin’s hips to steady him, to guide him gently down again where he belonged.

With Bilbo’s hands wrapped around his _bukhzakhuz_ , with Bilbo’s  _zugragur_ penetrating him so sweetly, he slowly worked himself up to a frenzy. “ _Gabshê_ ,” he cried out, too gone for the common tongue. “ _Ag zânakhi! ‘Ibinê!  Zûr nâfradi haga iglukhul?_ ”

“I don’t know,” replied Bilbo, too far gone himself for Khuzdul, and it didn’t really matter whether it was a response to Thorin’s question, or an admission of not being able to understand it, for Thorin had reached his peak, covering Bilbo’s chest in _sadâz_ , and the sight was so electrifying that Bilbo followed suit shortly thereafter, pulling Thorin down on top of him in a frantic attempt to be as close to his beloved as possible, to merge with each other in a sticky, sated heap.

Neither of them moved for some time, as their breathing slowed and they drifted back into sleepy companionship. Bilbo softened and slid out of Thorin, in what might have been either a few moments or a few years, and Thorin carefully eased his bulk off of Bilbo, disentangling their legs. Once they were more comfortably arrayed, they lay drowsing together for some unmeasurable span, until Thorin’s love-wrecked voice intruded on the nighttime quiet.

“Bilbo,” he asked, “who made hobbits?”

Bilbo, who was of course quite sleepy again, responded with a blunt, “huh?”

“I need to thank someone. Whoever made you. Because they made you just for me,” murmured Thorin, right against the tip of Bilbo’s ear. “So who made hobbits?”

Bilbo shook his head, which might have been an inability to answer, or might have been a move to bury his face deeper into the fluff of his pillow. “There’re stories,” he told the pillow. “Different stories, old stories. H-” and here he yawned. “Hard to say.”

Thorin made a note to ask Balin after all, and then followed his beloved into sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Neo-Khuzdul Glossary:  
> bukhzakhuz = “little hammer” (using the reduplicative diminutive size form as opposed to the diminutive age form “-ith”)
> 
> zugragur = “little sword,” on analogy with Roman “gladius.”
> 
> (And not to get into too much of a lesson on historical euphemism, but “vagina” literally means “sheath.” Sword. Sheath. Cute one, Romans! ANYWAY, NO ONE CAN TELL ME THIS ISN’T WHAT DWARVES CALL THEIR DICKS.)
> 
> Bonus: I also offer you zubshabush, “little club/tool.”
> 
> ikrah = “sheath,” though I have it in mind that this might not necessarily apply to a specific body part in Khuzdul, but to receptive body parts in general.
> 
> gabshê = “my treasure”
> 
> ‘ibinê = “my jewel”
> 
> Ag zânakhi! = “I will soon come.” Yeah, I went there.
> 
> Zûr nâfradi haga iglukhul? = “How do we fit [together] too well?”
> 
> sadâz = semen. Yeah, I went there too. You’re welcome, Hobbit fandom.


End file.
